


Elements

by AvaRose



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Battle of Scarif, Everybody (still) dies, The Force is strong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRose/pseuds/AvaRose
Summary: Chirrut Îmwe is air.Baze Malbus is fire.Bodhi Rook is earth.Cassian Andor is water.Jyn Erso is all four.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in tears. This movie tore my heart apart. I’m writing this as a tribute for Rogue One. I hope it does them justice.

The crew of the Imperial freighter stolen from Eadu, baptised _Rogue One_ , left Yavin IV with no disillusionment clouding their mind. They knew their first mission together probably would be their last. Yet they were all connected together. The chains of the Empire were tying them together, about to be broken.

  
Their transport shook as it landed on the coarse sand of Scarif. Their unshackled hands reached for weapons, unyielding. The ship’s lights went out. Death was breathing down their neck, its shadow looming on their still figures. Death never waits for one to die, but one could be prepared.

  
They moved out, spreading. Life welcomed them into the light, embracing them like children, watching them scamper away. They were all running on the ground that would become their graves.

  
Life looked back at Death, and Death stared back.

 

***

Chirrut Îmwe is air.

  
He doesn’t need sight to know the way. He walks with firm steps, his gait unwavering, his countenance open, his ears pricking at each sound. He doesn’t hesitate when he strikes. He doesn’t speak. He listens. He doesn’t need a voice to speak, for the Force speaks for him. The Force echoes around him and coils around him. It’s spinning around so fast it is like a tempest rising, but there is no tempest. There is only the Force.

  
And the Force takes him. He doesn’t need sight to believe. He has been guarding the Temple on Jedha before he even know how to believe, what to believe in. He knows there is one thing that cannot fail him, and it is the Force. He knows there is one person that cannot fail him, and it is Baze Malbus, as the Force commands it, as the Force pushes both of them on the same path.

  
Chirrut listens to the wind. The wind hides no secrets. The wind is a silent listener, but it reveals what it had seen only to those who has the strength to listen. He takes the wind’s information, takes the Force’s strength, and uses it to protect. He has been protecting the Whills, but with the Whills gone, he has waited instead of wallowing or sulking. The Force knew no Death, only the Force. Soon, what he had to protect came to him.

  
Meeting Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor has not been a coincidence. The Force was pooling around them, glowing around them, even if it appeared murkier around the man. The Force willed him to take a stand when the Rebels were cornered by stormtroopers. So he did, listening to the ground, to the wind, to the sounds of blasters firing, to the Force. Then the Force assigned Baze to guard him in case his wandering led him to dodgy corners, and Baze did guard him effortlessly.

  
But Chirrut is air. He may not see, just like air cannot be seen, but he is everywhere, for he is one with the Force, and the Force is with him. The Force is everywhere, living in every being, infiltrating every crevasse, giving the breath of life and grieving those losing it.

  
He feels the disturbances when no one talks. He follows the irregular contours of the wind, listens and fires. He knows there is no Death: there is only the Force.  
He doesn’t need sight to understand that this Master switch needs to be activated.

  
He is air. The stormtroopers shoot but can’t hit him, for he is air, he is intangible, he is essential. And as his hand pulls the switch, there is a content smile spreading on his lips. He has done his duty. He has been the air when fear was choking them.

  
But even air can disappear. When it does, it’s normal for Baze to be so distraught, there is no reason to worry, for Chirrut is more than air. He is the Force.

  
And the Force takes him.

 

***

 

Baze Malbus is fire.

  
He razes down what protects his air. It’s as simple as that. He doesn’t need any fancy speeches or elegantly designed weapons. He just fires. It’s as simple as that.

  
But fire isn’t that simple. Fire, once controlled, can be a marvellous ally. Fire needs oxygen to live, thus Baze sticks close to Chirrut. Where one is, the other follows. With his weaponry, he can destroy you. With one twitch of the fingers, he can end your life. Yet he doesn’t, for he is controlled. If you threaten what keeps him alive, then he will make sure you die before his air runs out.

  
But fire isn’t that simple. Fire, once passed, gives a soil ready to grow. Baze has watched the Empire takes the reins of the galaxy just like a single spark neglected that ignited the universe. The fire spread until everything burned. Even Jedha burned. But fire also allows regeneration, and regeneration was coming faster than expected. It sprouted from the still scorching earth under the name of the Alliance. The Rebellion has always been close to Jedha with Gerrera roaming around, but Baze had never been thrown in their ranks before. Fire mixing with another fire was never a good thing.

  
It didn’t turn out to be a good thing, indeed, but did it really matter? His air was wandering, so he would as well. His air must’ve felt this other fire calling and hadn’t been able to suppress this irresistible need to feed his hopes and dreams as well. His air has always been like this, generous and wise, sometimes bordering foolishness. He finds that he doesn’t mind so much. Even under the rains of Eadu, with his air near, he can’t be extinguished. He burns bright, targets with precision, and destroys. Then again, he assumes that if his air protects, and that he himself protects the air, then he must protect as well.

  
For fire protects. One can’t get too close when fire is around. The fear of getting burned runs too deep in their veins to make them approach. Baze uses this when he can. When stormtroopers aim to attack, he protects his air. It’s simple as that.

  
But if fire is simple, air isn’t. And it’s with his heart lurching dangerously that Baze watches his air wander in the open battlefield, mumbling about the Force once more. He wants to move, but with his air so far away, fear paralyses his body. All he can do is scream as loudly as someone getting burned. He screams for Chirrut to come back. His world tilts back to its angle when his air seems to hear him and turns to walk back, but it spins out of its axis when a grenade is thrown close to his air.

  
Explosions ringing. Burst of flames. Ashes raining down. His flame flickers. His air is running out, and when he grasps at him, he does what air does. It escapes from his grip.

  
A fire put out by water is a cowardly way to go down. Therefore he approaches the stormtroopers’ line, seeking their fire as much as he had first sought his air. He sends one last glance to the vessel who had been his air.

  
Their fire is as destructive as he hoped it would be.

 

***

 

Bodhi Rook is earth.

  
Earth is reassuring, but for Bodhi, he doesn’t feel safe or comfortable with his profession. Earth is full of riches, but for Bodhi, his riches have been rather exploited. Earth slumbers during winter, but for Bodhi, winter has been going since the Empire ascended to rule the galaxy. It takes something to shake him to the core until he opens his eyes.

  
Galen Erso was the earthquake he had needed, the realisation, the catalyst to his desertion from the Empire. For once, he felt like himself. He walks with his own two feet on his own earth. His determination melts the snow that had trapped him for all these years. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid. The earth is always apprehensive when it has to soar through the skies to deliver a message to none other than Saw Gerrera.

  
Earth is loyal. Once Bodhi is in full control of his actions, he knows exactly where his faith lies. It has never been with the treacherous Empire but with the struggling Alliance. He already feels bad that he had once been working them. Shame makes him fidget with his tools. Now he has the chance to make it all better. Saw Gerrera is the first step. Ultimately, the Empire crumbles with an earthquake he hopes he had participated in creating.

  
_Rogue One_ becomes the rock. They have been wandering, some more than others, but they gather in earth’s home for one last voyage. Bodhi drives the spaceship and guides them closer to their objective. He knows he’s just a pilot — an Imperial pilot, on top of that. He doesn’t exactly see his utility, but he nods when Cassian tells him to stay with the ship. He hopes he can meet their expectations and even dreams of exceeding them. Perhaps if he had more faith in himself, he would’ve seen the vital role he had played.

The earth is not to be underestimated. Yes, sometimes it never budges under your feet. It remains immobile and let history unfolds without saying a word. However, sometimes, the earth awakens and moves. And when it does, it can cause impressive damages and even shift the tide. Bodhi stays close to the ship as ordered, but when Cassian informs him of the situation, he knows he has to move. He has to move just like he had done with Galen. Therefore he grabs whatever he can and builds a makeshift communicator to get them through to the rebel fleet fighting above them. The skies are not his domain, even if he’s a pilot. He can’t do a thing for them, but he can inform the skies of what the earth wants to do.

  
Thus he moves. He sprints across the beach. He pulls on the cord that refuses to move as he tries to get in Rogue One. There are fissures splintering his surface, however. One blaster ray graze him. He sees people dying for him, for the Alliance. He moves so much he causes an earthquake of his own, a breakthrough in the barriers of the Empire. He tells them everything Cassian would’ve told them.

  
Then he hears it before he saw it. A grenade rolls down on the earth.

  
When it explodes, it tears the earth apart with no mercy.

 

***

Cassian Andor is water.

  
He’s a force to reckon. He appears like a decent fellow at first. He talks with urgency, but who wouldn’t when one doesn’t want to be overheard by stormtroopers? He simply wants to know, and he erodes his informant’s patience quite well. When he’s caught, he lashes out with no hesitation. Two troopers down. He turns to his hysterical informant. There is nothing he can do. Thus he swiftly creeps on, then fires again. The water turns cold as the chamber of his blaster fumes. He leaves without leaving traces, just like water sweeps away any traces made in moist sand.

  
He hears about Erso’s daughter. He’s curious, but who wouldn’t be? Rumours about her fate had spread like mice after Erso had joined the Empire once more. But he is water, and water often searches and unravels everything bare. He wants the truth. Has she been in contact with either her father or Saw Gerrera? She is defiant. It unnerves him. Within the Alliance, he’s known for his reliability and competency. She, however, glares at him. He feels like if he leans in too close, he won’t like it.

  
There is two sides of water. He knows them both, but there is one he often uses and one he rarely uses. With the Alliance, he’s required to be a destructive force and sweep everything away. His order before he leaves for Eadu is clear: kill Galen Erso. Grudgingly, he accepts. He can’t refuse, can he? Water needs a mould, or it’ll splatter on the floor and remain there until it evaporates. His mould is the Alliance. It’s the only one he’s known, since he’s six, thus he can’t live without it. He can’t live without a cause.

  
But he can’t kill Galen Erso. Maybe it’s the rain enlightening his senses, but he realises he can’t kill him. What he can do, however, is save Jyn. He rushes to the platform with no hesitation, taking down any stormtrooper daring to target her. Cassian thinks he’s found the pearl he wants to protect. But instead of laying in an oyster, she is devoid of any shelter. She’s drifting away. He’s ready to make the entire ocean her shelter, if she wants to.

  
Then he learns Jyn wants to go to Scarif. It’s dangerous. It’s against the orders of his mould, but he’s tired of listening to orders who make him feel like a tool. Therefore he switches moulds for the first time of his life. Jyn becomes the one he pledges to follow. He’s not the only one, for a ragtag crew of Rebels gather around her after her speech, but Cassian is the only one with his heart entirely devoted to her. Cassian is the only one following her inside the tower, the only one protecting her, the only one killing for her.

  
Water can be gentle. It soothes nerves after a long day and makes children laugh when they play in it. It can even make one dance when it falls from the sky. Cassian and Jyn have both known nothing of it. Water has always been rough, just as Life has been, but they have nothing to lose. So they let themselves go. The water seeps through their clothes as they collapse on Scarif’s beach. The horizon is tinted with hues of orange and white, with Death.

  
They don’t talk. They held on each other. Cassian let himself go, as gentle as he can be, embrace her. Stardust, she has been called. Pearl, he calls her.

  
The waves unfurl on them with an onslaught of gentleness.

 

***

 

Jyn Erso is all four.

  
She is the link. She takes the air with no judgment. She accepts fire without fear. She trusts the earth to support her. She lets the water guide her. _Rogue One_  drives them all to their doom.

 

  
She is air.

  
She has lost it, however, when her mother was killed and her father, taken back by the Empire. She has been struggling for air since Krennic had found the Erso. She had searched for it when she had been trained by Gerrera, but she didn’t find anything. She was taught the arts of strategies and the dance of martial arts. She was trained to recognise an assassin’s stance by a glimpse. She was initiated to the knowledge of weapons before reaching adolescence. Yet none of it gave her the thrill she was looking for.

  
The pouch of oxygen she carried with her was the crystal on her necklace. It drove her to be who she was today. The air has always been scarce, but she has met Chirrut. He respected the Jedi ways. He could see what she couldn’t. He didn’t need sight to see.

 

 

She is fire.

  
She is going to burn everything to the ground. With one blaster in hand and an indifferent expression on her face, she fires with no remorse. Yet she is fire, and she can rekindle a soul. Wherever one has left it, however one has lost it, whomever had stolen it, she will take one’s hand, lean forward and with her words, set one afire once again. She doesn’t do it often, for her heart only chooses the worthiest.

  
Yet here she stands, in this assembly of Rebels, of senators longing for justice, of soldiers taking a bet that might cost their life, of pilots ready to soar in the sky and never come back, of people who had devoted sometimes nineteen years of their lives to this cause. And she knows she can’t let them roam in the darkness. She has to chase their dreams for them, and for herself. She has to spark the fire anew for the future of those who think they have none, and for herself.

  
Perhaps that’s why Baze gets attached to this girl, who has gained his air’s approval. The last word he speaks to her is ‘sister’, for he is so proud she chose to use her fire as a shield, to protect.

 

 

She is earth.

  
She knows what needs to be done. She has never known winter, and that’s makes her so intimidating to Bodhi. Her relentlessness is what kept her alive. Her resources are surprising, for she has been trained by one of the most dreaded warriors of the newly born Rebellion. She moves so fast that if you follow the trail earthquakes, you’ll find her at the epicentre.

  
She burned Scarif to the ground with her words and the soldiers who had embarked on Rogue One. She is not even registered in the Alliance’s databanks, but she is engraved in their heart. Krennic stares at her, disbelieving, yet satisfied since he’s the one holding the gun and not her. She doesn’t move, not even a step back, not even a fleeting expression of distress. He’s watching a statue whose expression is one of acceptation. She is a wall standing on his way, and he feels like she’ll still stand even if she’s been reduced to rubble. Yet before he can fire, he himself is hit from behind, and even if the pain blinds him, he feels her eyes on him.

 

 

She is water.

  
Cassian is more afraid that he’d let it show. He can barely walk, pain is searing through his side, and she has an atrocious limp, yet they make it to the beach. The water is cool, refreshing, just like Jyn stumbling in his life. They know Death is staring at them as Life looks away in shame.

  
She is not going to leave him alone. She is with him. She embraces him tenderly and pulls him close. Water surrounds them. Both have seen enough destruction, have caused enough destruction, so it’s soothing to remain like this, in each other’s arms, just for an instant. Their eyes are wide open as they wait for Death without flinching. Her fingers curl around his hair, unyielding.

  
Then she leaves this world with him, never letting go.


End file.
